Page 8 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“You look like you barely slept.”
I smirked before I saw her. “Good morning, Laura.”
She was perched on the edge of my desk, ankles crossed, exuding trouble in a black jumpsuit and heels sharp enough to kill a man. Her eyes glinted with amusement and curiosity.
“You’re early,” I said, setting my bag down.
“You’re late,” she countered, her grin widening. “So?Spill. Who’s the man that had you up all night? I lost you at some point.”
“You’re relentless.” I gave her a pointed look. “The blondie I was dancing with.”
“And youloveme for it.” She hopped down, sauntering over. “Judging by your face, it was eitherverygood...orveryweird.”
I hesitated. “A little of both.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh?Dotell.”
I could’ve brushed it off–kept it light. But Laura wasn’t justanyone. She was my closest confidant. She saw through me like glass.
“There was a text,” I admitted, voice lower. “Anonymous. He...was watching me last night. That man in the hoodie...that was the one who came to my apartment the other night.”
Her amusement faded immediately. “Excuse me?Whydidn’t you tell me last night when he showed up?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I honestly don’t know. Denial, maybe.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Adela–”
“It felt...different,” I cut in, pulse quickening as the memory curled through me again. “Wrong. But...intoxicating.”
Her lips parted, then curled into a slow, wicked smile. “You’reenjoyingthis.”
I exhaled sharply. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” she said, eyes glittering. “But I know that look. Whoever he is...he’s under your skin. You’re a twisted fuck.”
I threw my head back and laughed because she wasn’t wrong.
***
The flight was easy enough. I guess any flight was enjoyable if you were in first class. I always loved visiting Florida for work. It honestly felt like more of a mini vacation than anything. Just a couple of quick dinners and I was free to wander the beach and sit on my balcony reading my books.
My hotel in Fort Lauderdale was a sleek, modern glass tower with sweeping views of the ocean–the kind of place meant to impress clients. And for Sinclair Solutions, appearances mattered. I’d checked in earlier without issue, freshened up, and spent the evening at an overpriced restaurant with a client who couldn’t stop talking about how he kept his offshore accounts “clean.”
Dinner had been predictable–another man who thought money made him untouchable. But his business fed ours, and I played the part I always did. Polished. Sharp. Unshakable. An obvious woman of his dreams that he would never be able to touch. It didn’t stop him from trying, though.
By the time I escaped, the sun was sinking low, streaking the sky in shades of blood orange and violet. I kicked off my heels andwalked along the beach, letting the cool sand slip between my toes as the waves lapped against the shore. The rhythm of the ocean was calming in a way that had me smiling to myself. My mind quieted, and I exhaled a deep, unhurried breath.
But my thoughts were not quiet enough. Because I still felt it. Thatprickleat the back of my neck. The one I’d been feeling far too often lately.
When I finally returned to my room, I ordered an expensive bottle of French wine and peeled off my dress in favor of a fuzzy, white robe. The room was beautiful: marble floors, a king-sized bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the water. But my feet carried me straight to the balcony.
The moon hung over the ocean, its silver reflection shimmering across the waves. I slowly sipped my wine, breathing in the salty, humid air. The night was peaceful, thank all the damn gods. I swept my hair up into a claw clip and smiled to myself.
My phone vibrated with a text from Laura:
Everything is all good here! Closing up for the weekend. Have a nice vacay, you bitch. :)
I grinned, typing out a quick response:
